


Divine Intervention

by Nitrobot



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, F/M, Gen, Gladiators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 19:22:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6919891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nitrobot/pseuds/Nitrobot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On an alternate Cybertron, Megatronus and Orion Pax are students under the tutelage of renowned historian and archivist Alpha Trion. Megatronus has a thirst for knowledge and researches everything about Cybertron's illustrious past with relish, displaying particular interest in the ancient Decepticons- a faction that eons ago rebelled against the oppressive rule of the Thirteen Primes. They did not ultimately win the right to reign over Cybertron, but they did drive off the Primes so that the remaining 'Autobot Council' could step in to establish their own political power, which has ruled to this very day. He is also entranced by the old stories of the 'Cybertron Gods'- older than even the Decepticons with origins shadier than their intentions. Some records say they were disciples of Unicron, others say that they were ultimately a neutral antithesis to the Primes, and a few even report that they were Primus' first 'failed' creations. But their existence is disputed by modern society, and most agree that they are sparkling legends and nothing more...</p>
<p>Airachnid, goddess of war, decides to introduce herself to her biggest fan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Divine Intervention

**Author's Note:**

> So basically I had a gods/goddess AU from years ago and I wrote this thing for it but eventually I just pretty much forgot about it until now.

On another planet, it might have been called midnight. On Cybertron, it was only known as when Luna 1 began to crest the sky and twist in its descent, swinging perpetually and purposefully around the metal mass. To Megatronus, it signified a night well spent at his desk scattered with stubbed styluses and well-worn data pads. Alpha Trion had long since realised that his attempts to get the youth to recharge at night would be dutifully disobeyed no matter his tone- not from disrespect, of course, but the simple belief that the hours could be spent in more productive ways. And if that was how his student studied best, then he would not argue with it.

So Megatronus' quarters and his pursuits remained undisturbed for the better part of the solar cycle, the door rarely opened and even rarer its frame crossed by hesitant peds. Aside, of course, from one Orion Pax. Always the same comments. Always the same plea...

_"How long are you going to occupy yourself with sparkling stories, Megatronus?"_

_"Perhaps the reason why I do so is to avoid the boredom that you surround yourself with everyday, Orion."_

_"Practical and boring are two different things. If you learned that, Megatronus, then you might see things for what they are: Fairy tales."_

Or so he liked to preach. As their mentor had given up on teaching him the values of recharge, Megatronus as well learned to silence his audios to his arguments, and had almost managed to blot them out completely. Almost- just when Orion had finally pulled the trigger on a gun that had been rusting over for a long long while...

_"So your definition of a 'just' system, Orion, is one that began by having the_ true _winners just thrown to the scrapheap?"_

_"The Autobot Council earned their place in power, and have done so for quite a few years now, in case you haven't noticed."_

_"That doesn't erase the fact they they stole victory from the Decepticons in the first place!"_

_"Megatronus, you of all mechs should be able to see the truth! It's clear that no matter how the Decepticons might have ultimately seized Cybertron, it would have meant only disaster. Their power was unbalanced, unruly, uncontrolled! When they took their place on Iacon's throne, they would only have fought over who gets the chair with a view of the Sea of Rust. They were never meant to rule, only to pave the way so that real leaders could step in. Yes, perhaps it is unfair, but such is the price for revolution."_

_"And perhaps you'd be right, Orion... or has Alpha Trion been spouting that slag into your processor so you can be the perfect poster mech for his precious Autobot Council?"_

_"I... I don't know what you're talking abou-"_

_"You don't think I see the way his optics light up as soon as you walk into a room?! You think I'm so trapped in my 'stories' that I can't see the fragging obvious when it's RIGHT THERE?!"_

_"Megatronus, you always knew what he had planned for me- all these years you knew I'd be taking his position, and you never said a thing until now!"_

_"BECAUSE_ I _WAS SO TRICKED INTO BELIEVING IT WAS FOR THE GOOD OF CYBERTRON!"_

_"How could you even_ begin _to understand what is best for our home?! You barely even register what day it is!"_

_"Don't..."_

_"You can live in your fantasies of 'gods and good' all you wish, Megatronus... just don't expect the real world to match up to them."_

So many accusations... Megatronu- no, _Megatron_ furiously shook his helm to chase the thoughts off. The line into the arena was thicker now, filled out with hulking mechs of rust and scratched paint, anxious slim newcomers with flitting optics and the most optimistic suicidal Minibots he ever did see. He was in view of the entrance- a gaping wound in the wall that dropped off into a barricaded pit, marked with a river of spilled energon staining the floor and the haunting sparks of those too weak to have freed themselves. He'd seen it often enough in the Kaon holotapes, heard the distant cries of the crowd from a spectator street and the clashing cacophony of metal-on-living-metal. And now he could sense something creeping into his olfactories- burning. The stench of a funeral furnace somewhere nearby, scorching the bodies of those who lost and melting them down into liquid guilt. The cities were literally built on the backs of dead bots, Megatron noted on a grim poetic whim. And if he should fail tonight, he'd just become another lost soul in the lattice of millions. 

Why did he come here, though? It was a question that had been swirling in his processor so often he swore he'd just been possessed by some wandering ghost of gladiator past. But now that he considered it, appraised it, turned it over in his mouth... there was no answer. In his blind fury at Orion's insolence, ignorance and the grate of damned laughter still drilling into his audios... it just seemed an obvious choice at the time. Something in his circuits recognised Kaon as a beacon, and his spark was a slave to its light. For now. 

With that buzzing question out of the way though, its too-familiar annoyance only returned a klick later with a new query; what will this _achieve_ for him? A solar cycle away from Orion (the only good he could see from it)... paint scratches only overshadowed by the many wounds they would skid across... some overblown outlet for anger? His fists clenched at the notion- he was not angry. Anger was for drones that refused to believe they were wrong- _cheated_ was a far more savory word on his glossa. But if he couldn't win in a corrupt battle with Orion, then he'd win with brawn alone. With that one victory in his mind, he'd know he was truly unbeatable. 

Now only one question remained. Who would be the star tonight? 

...Well, as it was, there was already an early star that night. A star aligned so perfectly with the ethereal balance of the infinite cosmos and its workings-turned-myths; one that passed just overhead at the stroke of the moon at its apex and as the Insecticons awoke from a ritual thousand year slumber and as somewhere another holy champion was birthed-

-or so it must have been, for the odds of the gladiators having divine audience that night were just as slim. Airachnid was easily bored nowadays though. 

In the event of somehow escaping her husband's too-many optics, the gladiator arenas of her planet were usually her first port of call, even if it was just to satisfy her mortal curiosity. She'd never cease to be amazed by how much she could glean from a single battle between so-called brothers; how they presented themselves, how they fought, who won and who lost and what the rewards and repercussions for such outcomes would be. And that was just the fighters. From just a cursory glance around the crowd; the content of their cries and cheers and where they gathered to watch could tell her more about a planet's society than years of study.

How long had it been since she last watched this dance of death? Two, three centuries? From what her optics took in, not much had changed since then. Still the scarred titans set against the sparklings like rabid Scraplets. Still the same audience bathing themselves in the sight of energon splashing and spreading over the walls. If she was any closer than the highest rafters of the arena then her audios might have been deafened by their howls- tributes to murder. After all, that was what they came for. 

And what of the pawns themselves, she wondered just as the challenger below her was ripped apart by claws on his spinal column, folding in towards the floor as those claws reached down to crush his spark chamber. Two cycles, the battle had lasted. Impressive, she'd admit, for a dead bot so small. As the body was dragged away in a trail of energon her processor turned back to the question- did they not realise how pathetic they really were? Every day the same for them; kill, dismember, mutilate, watch the crowd cheer and the credits roll in. For what? To fuel themselves to do the same bloody thing all over again. Some fought just to see the light flickering out of a bot's optics, she knew that well enough, but they weren't part of the formula. What was it that Shockwave had said those few years ago...? “ _The majority is logical_.” Sadism wasn't logical- infliction of pain in exchange for pleasure wasn't an effective method of attaining it. 

Airachnid mulled it over as she drew a claw over her own armour, watching the spreading sting of a scratch over the metal with more interest than she'd ever spare for the miniature war playing out beneath her. Pink optics rolled as the scratch was almost instantly stitched back together into a stainless sheen by threads of shadow latching out of her skin. Her beloved was nearby- he always was. And Soundwave would never let her consort with mortals looking anything less than perfect. 

With knowledge of her husband watching she looked back to the renewed battle, folding claws beneath her faceplate. The same titan as before, now against an only slightly bigger mech... he would still die. She could already see his helm popping off in a spurt of energon. 

But this current champion bored her. 

Airachnid bared a smirk as the arena erupted into cries of disbelief as that champion's servos suddenly fell off, disconnected from his torso from something suddenly slicing through their cables. Those cables were shredded into limp trails with every consecutive wave of her talons in the air, as if cutting puppet strings leading far down. Perhaps she _did_ make the whole farce a little unfair, but how could she be content with just watching? 

They were bringing in a new sacrifice now- grey plated and steel faced and all things terrified. He'd probably end up stabbing himself on those shoulder spikes he barely had the strength to carry. 

The energon that eventually splattered them was not his own, though. Airachnid almost felt betrayed when her newest pet champion pitched forward five cycles later, with one more sword speared through his chassis than was usually considered to be 'non-fatal'. The grey mech extracted his bloodied weapon stiffly, holding it up to let the crowd see the overhead lighting warp through the muted cyan glow staining it. Perhaps if she was paying more attention she would have seen when he was about to be pierced, but... this was a newcomer. Not a returning gladiator of the past as most mechs his size were. Underneath his coat of energon his paint was still immaculate and thin, that of an Iacon socialite rather than a Kaon survivor. At that realisation Airachnid's smirk returned. A lost little Autobot flailing a sword around... an uncommon and sure to be amusing sight.

As the next mech entered the ring, Airachnid's optics were now focused fully on the impending murder scene, leaning forwards on her servos with back legs twitching. Another five cycles passed in what seemed like a klick, and the sword was raised again to the rapt masses, reflecting back their raucous cheers. And so the ritual was for the next breem, soldiers and miners and old timers sent off to the Allspark and smelting pools. Airachnid barely lifted another claw- her cables were all but frozen. The last screams of the evening finally died down enough for the new champion's name to be announced- Megatron. 

Now _that_ was a name she hadn't heard in a long while. What would old Megatronus have said to his name being branded onto gladiator arena records? Then again, he wouldn't have been able to say anything past her talons around his neck... old bastard leaving _her_ to take on his damn job while he went gallivanting after Uni-fragging-cron-

She was getting angry again. A shake of her helm and whirring optics chased that distressing thought away. When her eyes refocused, it showed Megatron sheathing his sword and seemingly addressing the audience, motions of his blood-soaked servos and his stature speaking of a bot beyond his years. Was he... she frantically re-tuned her audios to make sure they were working properly. Yes, he was actually giving a speech. By the Allspark, it was a miracle when these lugnuts could form a syllable, let alone lines by rote. She tuned in further to make out his words. 

"-I hail from Iacon." Well, she was right about that- as if his accent wasn't a giveaway. But she was only given a klick to admire the timbre of his voice before it was suddenly trampled over by furious yells all around pressing down on him, kicking against his battered armour. His faceplate barely flickered from the crowd's reaction. 

"Your anger is most understandable," he continued undaunted, somehow lulling their shouts with a sweep of a servo over them. "Because I have seen what the powers that may be have been doing for our planet... for you left stranded to _rust_ in the corners. And the answer is _nothing_!" Airachnid's optics widened as she realised what he was doing, and recognised the sentiments now rippling through the bots below. Not even centuries of so-called peace could make her forget what she saw down there those eons ago... the Decepticons. Airachnid fought not to roll her optics at how history liked to recycle its plot lines- same reasons, same arguments, and sometimes not even bothering to change the names. Still, to see another possible rebellion being seeded right before her was an intriguing sight... how was it that Megatronus did it? A lie placed here blooming into a hundred rumours over there, using his past as leverage rather than letting it settle as a hindrance... well, maybe history was finally looking outside the box for inspiration. 

And maybe this one wouldn't end up blowing himself up. 

 

**xx**

 

She waited until he departed in a sea of servos pounding on his back and sloshing high-grade, escaping into the night and making to the Iacon lights far ahead on the horizon. No-one dared to ambush him on Kaon's infamous streets- any who did were promptly flung away by a seemingly disembodied force watching over him. She briefly wondered why he didn't just use his alt mode, but she was content to just watch his frame swish around the weight of his armour. Iacon's nightlife was significantly less threatening, and Megatron knew which alleyways to take to avoid the wandering drunkards. As Airachnid expected he slipped into one of Iacon's most recognisable landmarks- the Hall of Records- and tip-toed through its silent corridors and up twisting stairways before stopping in front of a top door, dipping inside with a wary glance left and right.

He breathed a sigh of relief that no-one was on guard tonight before he registered another presence in his quarters. His fusion cannon deployed as he spun towards it, but its readied blast instantly died in a stutter that replicated his own as he took in what was sat on his berth.

"Does truly no-one recognise me nowadays on this planet? And I wore my best armour and everything..." she pouted, folding her servos on a knee.

"Y-You are Airachnid- the Goddess of War!" Megatron's optics scanned all over the shape lounging before him; trying to trick him, trying to make a fool out of him- no... he'd recognise her legs anywhere, on mortal framework or otherwise. Draped over her in slicing shadows, golden accents sweeping over her gleaming black plates of armour, twin purple glows flickering at him patiently. Never mind that the gods were real- that he was _right_ \- but that one would present themselves to him... and one so beautiful...

From her poised perch, Airachnid flashed a smile verging on a smirk. "Almost correct, gladiator." Her voice came in a sculpted purr that wreathed itself through the air waves and dipped into his audio receptors with a chilling edge. "Mostly eros nowadays, though I like to call it 'waros'. Fits well, don't you think? Still, I applaud you for knowing that much. It has been a long while since anyone has known me to my mortal form." Megatron's jaw only managed to pick itself up from the floor as she finished her correction.

"I-I know everything about you, Goddess!" Megatron's stammer drew a raised eye ridge from Airachnid as she idly assessed her claws, and he rushed to correct himself. "I-if you'll pardon the presumption."

"That depends- what do you know of me?"

"You were once a Decepticon consort," Megatron recited, fighting back a grin at remembering his favourite legend of them all- 'Chaos United', it was titled in the old files. That of how a mortal ascended to be a God herself... "In the company of the original Decepticon Council, given divine power from your marriage to the God of Chaos..." He paused to ascertain that she was pleased with how his memory served on the story. 

"Go on," Airachnid said, her smirk unwavering.

"And since then, you've wandered the realms from... battlefields to bedrooms-"

"Oh, please, gladiator, you'll make me blush!" Her rich laughter brought a flare of heat to Megatron's own faceplate. Even when it stilled it still rang in his blessed audios, and he only noticed her appraising him with lidded optics when the echoes died down. 

"I see Alpha Trion still has a habit of forgetting details," Airachnid finally quipped, lowering a primary leg from the desk surface to dangle over its edge. 

"Y-You know my mentor?" Megatron asked with ridges raised in surprise.  
"More than I'd ever care to, gladiator," was all the further depth that she gave. "You know he wrote all the records himself?" A small bewildered shake of the helm answered her. She released a bemused chuckle. "As such, don't be surprised to learn that they may have been... slightly embellished."

"Slightly?"

"Well, more like 'completely' if you're a stickler for accuracy."

"So... all I've read... is a _lie_?" The underlying fury in Megatron's tone and the clench of his claws into a fist drew Airachnid's attention back full force. He was a passionate one... and passion was one of the many things she'd seen lacking on today's Cybertron. What was it about this new champion that drew her interest in the first place? His virgin victory, the pulse of spark-fire in his optics, his profession to the gods... all of which seemed to be preludes to seeing his conviction first-hand- feeling the waver and ebb of his spark against its casing even from this distance. She'd dare say it was familiar, nostalgic even. And on that realisation, her smirk softened in a rare expression of empathy.

"Not quite." A servo came to balance on her knee, and she felt the waves of his rage pushing backwards. "As a matter of fact, I'm impressed with how much he did get right." She was silent more while she lept off the desk, landing gracefully on golden heels and running her claws through the tendrils of smoking air. Megatron watched her move, fabled back legs clicking with every step and stabbing through faint wind dragging behind her. 

" _Autobot_ consort." Her correction came as she stopped at a curious shelf of ancient trophies, taking a random one and turning it over in her talons. "To the Thirteen Primes themselves- well, twelve not counting Solus Prime. She always was jealous of how often they'd call for _my_ service and not hers..." she revealed, setting the trophy down when she recognised it as a carved likeness of her husband, engraved tentacles wrapped around his frame. "Soundwave gave me my powers first. I only married him afterwards, while I left the Thirteen to ward off the Decepticons by themselves."

Megatron was nodding, though only more questions were bubbling up before he could digest any answers. "Is it true that the Decepticons were controlled by the Thirteen, before they rebelled? Did the Autobots take their victory from them?"

"You are a curious one, aren't you?" Airachnid watched the primal light dance in his optics, that hungry gaze out to devour all she could give him, before she shrugged. "Honestly, I never paid much attention to who wore what insignia back then. A corpse was a corpse, a battlefield was my masterpiece. I still think of it more as my honeymoon than a war. But if I had to guess... I'd say that the Decepticons were weakened by the battle, too much so to stop the Autobots taking their place. So yes, victory was stolen from them." 

Megatron's optics became triumphant flares, glowing like suns in the gloom, though Airachnid was already moving onto more important things. "But perhaps that's just me rambling. I didn't come here to debate history with you, Megatron."

He blinked, though the fire was stubborn and remained burning away in the coals of his pupils. "Then... why come to me, Airachnid? What has brought you here, of all places?"

"Because, Megatron... I'd like to make you an offer. A goddess' favour, if you will. And I only ask one thing in return." She was inches from him, close enough to feel his anxious vents pouring warm air and see the potential, the future he'd carve for Cybertron right there in his eyes. And Airachnid knew then that he would do whatever she asked, and succeed.

"Bring me Alpha Trion's spark."

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this back in the day where I could write out 3k words like it was nothing so there probably won't be a part 2 unless people are desperate for one.


End file.
